


Quarantine

by MariaLujan



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: COVID-19, Coronavirus, F/M, Friendship/Love, Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25007431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariaLujan/pseuds/MariaLujan
Summary: Modern AU.Dr. Patrick Turner and Sister Bernadette work in Poplar, London.After caring for an infected patient, they both contract coronavirus and must go through quarantine living together and isolated in Nonnatus House.
Relationships: Bernadette | Shelagh Turner/Patrick Turner
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a crazy thing that my friend @kitty90s suggested to me.  
> I apologize if the subject offends you.

_Poplar, London, March 2020_

**Day 1**

He was looking at her while she kept the sterile instruments in a closet. She counted them, then remembered, looking at the ceiling, counting on her fingers, and she counted the ones in the closet again, verifying that none were missing.

She looked funny doing that.

Suddenly she sneezed. Once, twice, three times.

"Sister, I think you have caught a cold." He approached her, taking a pack of tissues from his pocket and offering her one.

"Thank you." She smiled, taking one and blowing her nose. "The storm last night is definitely taking effect."

"I offered to drive you to Nonnatus in my car." He looked at her raising an eyebrow, she smiled sheepishly, blowing her nose again.

"I didn't think it would rain so much, I got soaked. Next time I will accept your offer."

She sneezed again. He worried, he always did with her. He gave her another handkerchief.

"That offer will be today, I will not let you go by bicycle taking cold air. It is also about to rain."

Sister Bernadette sneezed again.

"God!" She complained, making a ball with the handkerchiefs and throwing them into the garbage can with force, "Getting sick is the worst thing that could happen to me now, I wanted to finish a master's degree and I have exams the next week and..."

Another sneeze. Patrick couldn't help but laugh when he saw her face full of fury.

"Please! Someone to help us!"

They looked at each other. The scream came from the door of the small hospital where they worked.

"Help!"

They ran and opened the door. There was a man hugging a woman full of tears and sobs.

"The baby!" Exclaimed the man, pointing to the woman, "Baby, there!"

"Calm down, everything is fine." Sister Bernadette smiled, making them come in, "He is a doctor and I am a nurse, we will attend you right away."

The woman kept complaining as Patrick helped her sit in a wheelchair and pushed her into the delivery room.

"Doctor, I'll be there in a moment, I'll try to calm the father and call more nurses."

Patrick nodded and led the woman quickly, complaining in an incomprehensible language that he assumed would be Chinese. He knew some words in that language, his son Timothy learned a lot from his Chinese schoolmates, but he was afraid to mispronounce them and make things worse.

***

The storm was raging outside, and the father only repeated words that she did not understand.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand you. Your wife will be fine, don't worry." Sister Bernadette dialed Nonnatus's number again, while with the other hand she dialed Cynthia's number on her cell phone.

The man sneezed.

"Oh, we are the same, I also have a cold. I'll make you a tea so you get warm."

Unable to locate a nurse, she left the phones. It seemed cruel enough to make them go out in such a climate. She and Dr. Turner would manage very well together in this delivery.

She smiled at the thought of him.

***

**Day 2**

They both looked at the little baby. He was already several hours old, he was strong and healthy and he slept peacefully after taking his milk. His mother was no longer scared and patiently read an English dictionary.

"Certainly last night was a test, one of the worst." Patrick looked at Sister Bernadette, who seemed about to fall asleep on her feet.

"Yes. I still don't understand how everything got so complicated, or how we managed to solve it."

"It would not have been possible without you."

She barely smiled, then yawned. Patrick looked at the time, it was almost 6, in a while all the nurses would arrive. He sat down in a chair, the Chinese woman smiled at his gratefully. Perhaps he could practice the words Timothy had taught him, the woman could correct him. He was going to talk to him when he had a coughing fit. He must have stood up and found a glass of water.

***

"He is fine?" The Chinese woman asked.

"The doctor? Yes, sure, it's just a cough." Sister Bernadette kept a safe distance. She no longer sneezed but felt bad, and did not want to infect the woman or her baby.

"Where is my husband?"

"He went to rest at home, he was very tired. He also said he would call your family to let them know about the baby."

"He has been tired since we arrived from China." The woman smiled, "All the preparations and nerves stressed him more than me!"

Sister Bernadette nodded, trying to smile. She also felt tired, in a strange way.

She heard that there was a knock on the door, so she went to open it, it was probably the nurses.

She met Sister Julienne, with a mask covering her mouth.

"Sister, did something bad happen to you?"

"I'm sorry." Said the older nun, and a group of people dressed in white suits and masks entered. Sister Julienne followed, but one of them yelled at her to stay at the door.

"What's going on?" Dr. Turner appeared, looking at everyone.

"We need to know who was in contact with Zhang Min. He's in the hospital, isolated. He went there because he felt very bad and is positive for coronavirus. He told us that his wife had her baby here last night."

"Positive for what? But that disease is only in China!"

"And where do you think the Zhang family came from, sir?"

"Have more respect for Dr. Turner!"

The man looked at Sister Bernadette, gave her a mask.

"Sister, were you with Mr. Zhang?"

"Yes, I was with him all night. Wait, you can't go there, there is a woman with her baby!"

"Sister, you have to be calm." Sister Julienne wanted to get closer, but a man pushed her away.

"I was also with the Chinese family," said Dr. Turner, "There was no one else, they arrived when we had already closed, the two of us attended the delivery."

They gave him a mask and he put it on.

***

**Day 3**

"This is ridiculous!"

He looked at her from the sofa, folding his arms. He felt calm, just the opposite of her, who walked here and there like a caged tiger.

"It's not so bad, sister."

She turned and he regretted saying that. He wanted to tell her that it wasn't so bad being locked up alone with her in Nonnatus House for two weeks, but he had to behave.

It would be a difficult test, just the two of them isolated in the only place they could give them so they weren't occupying collapsed hospital beds. He had spent months enjoying her company too much during the endless hours of work. Sometimes he wanted to live with her, but it was impossible. She was a nun, he shouldn't look at her otherwise. In addition he was more than a decade older than her, and meanwhile she looked like a girl, he looked like an old stalker.

His wish had been fulfilled, in a strange and troubling way. They both had the disease, with mild symptoms, but they could not stay at home with other people.

"I'm bored," she dropped into a chair in front of him, "I can't stay doing nothing!"

"Sister, we've only been here for one day. Don't you have something to read? Or to knit? Maybe...cook something? By the way, what is the wifi password? I'll use my time to catch up on the series I started five months ago."

"There is no wifi here, it is a convent."

"God doesn't give free wifi? What a stingy," he laughed at his own joke. She threw a cushion at him.

"Enough, doctor. If you continue like this, I'll use my time to kill you or something. Don't you despair of being doing nothing? Don't think of your son?"

"I'm calm because we were with the infected man and from there, they brought us here. I didn't see my son, Timothy is out of danger and now he is in his uncle's house, and I imagine he will be happy because classes were suspended. And I'm also calm because I shouldn't work, nobody calls me on the phone, I don't have to be running from one place to another, and I could catch up with my series if I could have wifi in this convent. If I open the windows, can I take the wifi from the square?"

"We can't open the windows!"

"I know, it's just a joke!"

"I'll go to sleep!"

***

She slammed the door and threw herself on the bed. She immediately started coughing, so she sat down, took her temperature, and wrote the result on the pad of sheets they had given her to write everything her body was experiencing.

She walked to the window. In the square there were few people, walking in a hurry, keeping distance from the building to which they always came looking for help. She felt like a pariah from the Middle Ages.

She looked at the time, it was still early, the day was not ending and she was convinced that this was torture. It was wrong to get sick with the virus that was quickly spreading across the planet, but it was worse to have to spend days and days locked up with Dr. Turner, alone, as if they were a marriage.

She would have liked that, to be a marriage with him. But she shouldn't think such things, being in the house she shared with her sisters. Distance was the best, she would try to avoid him as much as possible. Nonnatus was a place big enough for two people to never meet.

She heard a knock on the door of her room.

"Who?"

"And who is going to be? There are only two of us here!"

She opened the door, he was leaning against the frame.

"Hello!"

"How do you know this is my cell?"

He shrugged.

"I knocked on all the doors until I found you. Would you be interested in cooking? I could never learn, I didn't have time and now I do. I can pay you for the lessons when we get out of here."

She sighed. She was firm in her decision to keep her distance until he knocked on the door.

"Okay. Let's go to the kitchen."

***

**Day 4**

"It is the last one."

He saw her kindly give him the last biscuit they had cooked the day before.

"The last one? But we did a lot! If I continue like this I'll get out of this quarantine weighing fifty more pounds."

She laughed a little, taking a sip of her tea.

"I'll leave it to you."

"Thanks," she bit it, "They really are very delicious."

"Do I have a future as a baker?"

She laughed more.

"If one day you get bored of medicine, you know what to do. Is the time," she said looking at the clock.

She immediately brought one of the boxes with the antibiotics that they were to take. She took out two pills, gave him one, and took the other with what was left of her tea.

"Have you had a fever, doctor?"

He cleared his throat, thinking about the night before. It was little fever, but enough so that he could not sleep at all. Also, his phone didn't have any more internet and money to buy gigas, so he was just looking at the ceiling imagining what it would be like if his condition worsened. He did not want to die and leave his son orphaned.

"Doctor? Do you feel good? I see you down. We must report if you feel worse."

"Last night I could not sleep, I had a fever, but not much. Today I have nothing but I feel very tired."

"Go to sleep, I'll call you when I have lunch ready."

***

Two men in special suits and masks left food bags at the door. She quickly opened and entered the bags.

She felt sad that everyone avoided her like that, but things had to be that way, everyone had to be protected.

She started making the food, turned on the radio as the silence made her sadder. She hardly ever listened to the radio, it was not too much allowed for the nuns. All the stations had news about the disease. She changed until she found music, left it there, and continued making the lunch.

She turned up the volume when started a song that was her favorite when she was little. She hadn't listened to Britney Spears for years, and suddenly forgot she was quarantined and sad.

When the song ended, she turned off the stove.

"Doctor! Doctor, lunch is ready!"

There was no answer. She walked down the hall to the doctor's room. She knocked on the door and he didn't answer either. Looking everywhere, although she knew that no one saw her, she opened the door and entered.

He was asleep.

She reached out and touched his shoulder, he woke up with a start.

"Where I am?!"

"Doctor, you are at Nonnatus."

"Oh, God!" he grabbed his head, "Agg, I feel very bad."

Instinctively she put her hand on his forehead.

"There's no fever."

"Those antibiotics, I feel that they kill me instead of healing me."

"I'll bring you the food, don't get up."

When she returned with the lunch, he was already sitting, clutching his head.

"Thanks, you're an angel," he said taking the tray. She looked away.

"I'll go to lunch."

"Why don't you eat here? I will not infect you with anything that you no longer have."

"I can't doctor, it's your room."

"But no one is here to tell you something."

"I can't, don't insist."

She didn't want to sound so severe, but she had to.

When she finished eating in the kitchen, she went to get the tray. He had eaten everything, leaving no traces of food on the plate.

"It was delicious!"

"Thank you. Do you feel better?"

"Yes. I felt bad, some medications give me nightmares."

"Oh, me too. Until now I have not, but in a few days they will give us other medications and I'm afraid that they'll give me nightmares. I always...dream about when my mom died and it's terrible."

She had never told anyone that. She took two steps to leave.

"Sister, sit down." The doctor pointed to the bed next to his.

Resigned, she left the tray on the floor and sat on the bed.

"I always dream of Iraq. You know, I had to go there. The weird thing about this time is that I dreamed horrible things but listened to Britney Spears."

She laughed out loud.

"I think I had the radio with a very high volume, because it was me who was listening to Britney!"

"I didn't know that the nuns can listen to music that is not...sacred? Gregorian? I have no idea what is the name of that music they put in churches."

"We can't listen to music, but you already said it, there is nobody here to tell me something. Especially Sister Evangelina!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Day 5**

His assumption of getting out of quarantine weighing fifty more pounds was going to be a reality if he continued like this.

Sister Bernadette's cooking class this time was about cakes and the truth was that the one they managed to bake was delicious.

It all started when they burned the first cake.

Rather, he burned it, because he was in charge in front of the oven while she was on the phone with her sisters. But he stared at her like a fool while she chatted and laughed a little on the phone, imagining her at home cooking and laughing with him without that blue habit and with her hair uncovered.

He came out of his reverie when she yelled at him, and the truth was, he too would have loved her yelling at him like that every day. He wondered if the coronavirus turned people into zombies in love because that's how he felt.

"Now we have to do another one! This is impossible to eat!" She said taking the pan out of the oven and throwing it with all its contents into the garbage can.

"We have time to do a hundred more if we want, what's the problem?"

"Doctor, there are people who are starving in the world, we cannot be making a cake and letting it burn just because we have time to make another one. We can't even give this to the dogs!"

She was furious and that made his laugh. She looked at him, visibly upset.

"Now you must make another one by yourself. It's time for my prayers, I'm leaving."

So she left and he found himself lost among the ingredients and without any help. He couldn't remember anything she explained to him, he was too focused on her eyes, on her hands and on the song she hummed along with the radio.

When she returned, he was still trying to understand if he should first stir the sugar or the eggs.

Without saying anything she started doing it all over again. Little by little he reached for the ingredients, while she mixed and stirred without looking at him. Everything was fine until he turned the package of flour on the floor.

"Doctor! I already told you that I don't like to waste food." She said while trying to rescue some flour in a tupperware and asked for a broom to sweep the rest.

He leaned down, soiled one of his fingers in the flour and ran it over her nose. Sister Bernadette froze, looking at him. Then she took a handful of flour and threw it over his head.

He was going to continue the flour war until she stopped him by standing up.

"Very funny all this, but stop throwing food. Now keep stirring that mixture while I finish cleaning up your mess."

An hour later, they ate the cake without saying anything. She still had her nose with flour and he with his hair and face still white from the same thing.

**Day 6**

He got up, knowing he would find her already making breakfast. She always got up early because she had specific hours to pray. But when he got to the kitchen, everything was empty and frozen.

He walked to her cell. He did not know why they called it "cell", it was not a prison. It was just a common room, but when she spoke she always said "my cell".

He knocked on the door. He heard a slight sob.

"Good Morning," she said when she opened the door. She had red eyes and her hair fell out of the cap she put on to sleep. She was blonde and had curls.

"Sister, are you alright?"

She shrugged and hugged herself, trembling. She was only wearing a huge white nightgown and her feet were almost purple with cold.

"Go back to bed," he said taking her gently by the elbow and bringing her to the bed, "You don't have a fever from what I see, but you must take care of being so cold. Look at your feet!"

She obeyed, climbing onto the bed and covering herself with the blankets. She was still crying a little.

"What happens?" He asked softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"I don't know," She laughed barely, "I'm very silly."

"Sister, I think you're the opposite, you're very intelligent, the most intelligent woman I know. Although you're always scolding me for everything."

She barely smiled and pulled more of the blanket to cover herself.

"Did you have nightmares?"

She nodded.

"Can you leave me alone? Please."

He stood up and walked to the door, but immediately returned.

"Sister, sometimes it's good to talk about what happens to us. I know maybe you would tell this to your friends but..."

"I don't have friends."

He swallowed hard.

"Well, maybe you would tell Sister Julienne...But you can tell me. I know you're afraid, because I'm also afraid. We have no contact with the world, we miss our loved ones, and the only news we know are terrible."

"I'm scared, very much," she said, sitting on the bed, "More than for me, I'm afraid for the people I love. Sister Monica Joan is very old, I don't know who she's been with these days. Sister Evangelina and Julienne are also older, and we have many elderly patients whom I love very much."

"I understand you perfectly. If I tell you the truth, I'm panicking."

"But you were in the war, surely you saw worse things."

He sighed and sat down on the edge of her bed again.

"But I was sure that none of that would reach my house, my son, or the people I love. This is different, it's silent. On top of that I must thank God, although I don't believe in him, because we immediately had symptoms and we weren't around spreading and harming more people."

"Why do you not believe in God?"

"You already said it, I was in the war. No one leaves there believing in someone superior. And when I came back, my wife died."

She lowered her head, played with the edge of the sheet.

"Sometimes it's very hard to believe," she said, "So I understand you, and I don't judge you."

"Thanks for that. I'm going to make lunch, I hope I don't burn anything."

***

She could not sleep. She was still afraid, she could not help thinking what was happening out there. She was determined not to listen to the radio anymore, but at the same time she wanted to know and find out everything, and she regretted that Sister Monica Joan had taken the only television that was on Nonnatus.

She was also afraid for him. What if he got worse? He was a healthy man, but he smoked like a fireplace with legs, that would harm him. If something happened to him, she could not go on living.

She was also embarrassed, she never wanted the doctor to see her like that, crying and worried.

She left the cell when she felt a burning smell. Sighing, she entered the kitchen, imagining the disaster she would encounter.

"Only these two chips were burned, I swear!" He said raising both hands.

"Okay doctor, I'm not going to tell you anything. The rest of the chips look very good."

"I know we shouldn't eat things like this but you were feeling bad and…I thought you would like it. Besides, we already have too much to be locked up here taking pill after pill and controlling our symptoms. We must have something nice, and why not chips?"

"Thanks, that's very sweet. The food really looks very good."

He seemed happy. He looked adorable in Trixie's pink apron, decorated with gold sequins. Well, he looked ridiculous too, but that made him adorable.

"I ask you not to take any picture of me with this," he said, pointing to the apron.

"I don't have a way to do it, so don't worry."

"But sister, you have a mobile phone."

"Yes but it doesn't have a camera. It's old, we are austere. The mobile phone is only for emergency calls."

"I think we should take some photos together, so I upload them to my Instagram account."

"For God's sake, don't even think about it. This food is ready, you can take it out of the oven."

He pulled out the meatloaf he had made. It was a little misshapen and lacking salt, but otherwise it was perfectly fine.

"Do you feel better, sister?" He said as he put more food on her plate.

"Yes. I couldn't sleep but I feel better. Sorry for what you saw."

"Sorry about that? Please, don't apologize for feeling bad. Sister...I was wondering if...Oh, it doesn't matter."

"Tell me, please."

The doctor's phone started ringing. He attended, it was his son. He chatted with him for a while, told some jokes. He looked happy, but when he cut the communication, he was very sad.

"I miss that little devil. But luckily he's fine."

"Timothy is adorable."

"Thank you sister."

"What do you want to ask me?"

He seemed to choke on the food, took some water.

"Just…I already told you, it doesn't matter. Besides, I know that you are not allowed."

She felt that she was choking now. There were so many things she was not allowed to do, most of them related to this man and she wanted to do them all. She took a drink of water.

"Tell me, doctor."

"I wanted to ask you if…I mean, we have been living together for days, and we have been working together for years."

"Yes." She felt her nerves blooming everywhere.

"And you just call me " _doctor"_. And I treat you as if you were my grandmother and not a 30 years old girl."

"What? How do you know my age?"

"Your medical record. Do you remember when I treated you last month when you hurt your foot?"

Of course she remembered. Her foot was damaged when she slipped on the basement stairs. She didn't care about that, but the next day she could not walk and the doctor came, wrote down her data, and then checked her foot. She still had to say several prayers every time she remembered the doctor's hands on her ankle.

"The problem, doctor," she said, clarifying her voice and trying to appear professional, "is that although I'm not your grandmother, I'm a nun. And I can't call you without your doctor's degree, nor can you call me another way that isn't Sister Bernadette."

"But the nurses treat you like a friend, and you call them by their names. I ask, is it because I'm a man, or...?"

"Good Lord, doctor! Call me whatever you want." She said with a sigh, trying to end the awkward conversation.

But he rested his chin on his hands, looking at her, and she knew that the conversation would not end there.

"Oh, yes? So can I call you by your real name?"

"No. That's private."

"Fine, fine, I won't ask, although it seems strange to me. Why do the nuns change their names? I don't understand it. But I don't want you to call me "doctor" anymore. You already know my name is Patrick."

"Okay, doctor. _Patrick_."

He smiled and ate the last remaining potato chip. She stood up to do the dishes.

"Sister, you didn't tell me why the nuns change their names."

"Because it is a rule, doctor. _Patrick_."

**Day 7**

"We have wifi!"

She saw him making popcorn, she had no idea how he got them, while he turned off the lights and put more cushions on the sofa.

"And...?"

"I'll be able to finish my series!"

"Oh, okay." She dropped one of the books she should study on the table. She sat down while he poured the popcorn into a bowl and went to the living room. She tried to read, but she heard from afar the noise of swords and screams coming from the series that the doctor, _Patrick_ , was watching.

After having tea, closing the book, reading another book, taking notes, sewing a pair of stockings, and three hours, the doctor returned to the kitchen visibly indignant.

"It's the worst ending I've ever seen in my whole life."

"That happens to you for watching Game of Thrones."

"Sister? Did you watch that series?"

"Of course not, but Trixie watched it and was just like you when she finished it. She didn't stop complaining for three days, and like her, I attended several and angry patients. Everybody was mad with that ending." 

"I can't believe it, so much time wasted on this. Are you studying? Don't you want to watch a series with me? Now that they put wifi we should take advantage of that. The truth is that I cannot complain, I'm eating well, I'm doing nothing, and now we have free internet. And I'm with a very pretty woman."

"If you say something else like that, I call the hospital and I say that you are about to die."

"Sorry." He smiled at her, and she couldn't tell him anything else, not when he looked at her that way between amused and tender.

"What series do you have to watch?" She asked. She would please him.

"There is the Al Pacino series. Do you like Al Pacino? We can see The Godfather, it's my favorite trilogy."

"I've seen it a thousand times."

"Sister! Really?"

"I had a life before entering the convent, you know? Well, what is Al Pacino's about?"

"There is a nun, and they are looking for Nazis, or something like that my friends told me."

Patrick said nothing more and was looking at her strangely and that intimidated her. It was as if he was trying to see if she was also looking for Nazis.

"Sister, can I ask you something?"

"I'm not looking for Nazis if that's what you want to know."

"Is not that. You said you had a life before entering the convent but...I've known you for about ten years. Why did you enter the Order when you were so young?"

"I did it because I wanted to. I was very clear about my vocation. I don't know what's strange, surely you entered university at the same age and nobody asks you anything."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you. It is...it is strange in these times that we live."

She sighed, trying not to look at him.

"Yes, you're right. Sister Evangelina didn't want. She told me that I had to go, to live my life a little longer, but I didn't have much to live for. My father was dead and I had no home. The only thing I had was my vocation as a nurse and to serve God. It seemed enough to me."

"And now is it enough?"

She looked at him, the air escaping from her lungs, but she blamed the coronavirus. He looked at her in a different way that made her shiver.

"Sometimes it's not enough." She said with all the sincerity and voice she could muster.

She stood up and went to her cell with her books.

**Day 8**

"Can I help you with that?"

She looked up from her book and smiled at him. He was bored, going around everywhere. Apparently there was no series to entertain him and it was the time that his son could not answer the calls because he was in his virtual lessons.

"Of course," she turned her book around, and he sat down across the table, "Could you summarize this chapter?"

"I'm so bored that I can summarize the entire London library. If only they let me out of here."

"I thought you were happy to be locked up." She handed him a yellow highlighter.

"Yes, but it's too much."

They were silent for several minutes, only the noise of the pages was heard.

"Sorry for what I asked you yesterday."

She looked at him and smiled.

"It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters. Sometimes I speak without thinking, and I forget that there are things that I shouldn't tell you or ask you. Sorry if I hurt you."

He did not, but his curiosity did not allow her to sleep at night, her head full of questions and doubts about the life she chose and that grew heavier each day.

"Nothing's wrong, Patrick." She whispered, forcing herself to continue reading.

"You can ask me what you want."

"I won't, don't worry."

"Please."

She looked at him and swallowed hard. He was sad and desperate. She knew he needed to talk to someone, and maybe he had needed that for years and no one was helping him. But she was a nurse, so she was there to help everyone.

"Well," she closed the book and looked at him, "How are you?"

"Ugh, you started with the worst," he tried to laugh, "I don't know how I am."

Instinctively she reached out to touch him, but stopped herself.

"Well, I don't know how I am either. The news are discouraging. Let's hope that tomorrow, our studies go well."

"I hope so. I want to get out of here and at the same time I'm afraid. It's strange, I was not such a coward in the war."

"Do you want to talk about that? About the war. Only if you want."

He shrugged, played with the highlighter between his fingers.

"There is not much to tell, I was part of the medical corps, so I saw terrible things there and everywhere. It had a nice part, and that is that I met many very good people, soldiers and doctors. But I can't see them, some committed suicide, others are in psychiatric hospitals."

"That's horrible, I'm so sorry."

"And then I'm here, pretending I'm fine."

"Now you know, when you are not, you can talk to me, or whoever you want. Everyone loves you here."

"I can't say these things, no one can trust a traumatized doctor."

"Yes, that makes you a better person."

She didn't know at what point she took his hand. The truth is that when she looked down, she was squeezing him tightly, trying to reassert her words. Patrick released her gently.

"Thank you, sister. You're a very good friend."

She tried to smile at the word "friend." It was a nice word, but she didn't want him to consider her just that. But what more could she expect?

"What about Timothy?" She tried to divert the conversation. Tim was always safe ground for both of them.

"For now he loves me, I will not be able to assure the same when he becomes a teenager and realizes that I'm a terrible father. I'm not limited only to cooking, I'm limited to everything. Luckily he has his grandmother and Nonnatus, otherwise the social services would have taken him from me for not attending to him as I should."

"That's nonsense, everyone sees the effort you make for him. We know that there are parents who never bother to know what happens to their children, or who hit them, or do worse things to them."

"I know, but everything has been going downhill since Marianne died. She took care of everything, educated him, she worked...And I don't know how she did it, and I'm not able to sign a note from school because I forget it even if Tim leaves his notebook in front of my nose. And he misses his mother so much."

"And you?"

***

He didn't know why he was telling her all this, but given the circumstances, it was obvious that at some point it would be time for confessions. He wanted to confess everything, but he knew he had a limit.

When she asked him if he missed his wife, he must think about it. He always missed Marianne, she was his first love, they grew up together. He still had her clothes and perfumes. But the wound no longer hurt. Marianne was a happy memory in his life, he no longer cried every day for her, feeling miserable. She was there, and at the same time she was not there.

What made his soul hurt was loving Sister Bernadette and knowing he could never even tell her. He might find joy with her again, but that would not be possible.

"Yes, I still miss her a lot." He finally said.


	3. Chapter 3

** Day 9 **

They spent the morning among strangers who came to do various exams and studies. According to them, things were going well, but when they left, Sister Bernadette said that she felt a little bad and disappeared.

He called his son, told him the news, asked how he was doing. The boy luckily did not understand well what was happening in the world, his only concern was not to see his father for so many days.

After chatting with him, he went to her cell.

"You have fever," he said when she allowed him to enter the room and saw his state. She nodded.

"You know that if you get worse I'll have to notify the other doctors."

She nodded again.

"I already took the medications. It's strange, while the doctors were here I felt good and now..."

"The disease behaves as it wants. Let's hope the fever passes."

"I hope so, if not, they will get me out of here. And you will be alone."

"And that will be terrible, I'll end up burning Nonnatus because I tried to cook something for myself."

She barely laughed, coughed.

"Try to relax.," he covered her with a blanket and sat next to her, who fell asleep instantly.

She looked fragile, and he was very afraid for her. He wanted to touch her, hug her, kiss her, but it was impossible.

His phone started ringing and he came out before waking her up.

***

She woke up when she smelled cake. Unburned cake.

Her stomach rumbled, that was a sign that she was recovering. She got up and wrapped her robe around herself. Outside it was already night, had she slept so much?

Opening the door, she smelled bleach and soap.

She walked to the kitchen, sweeping the floors was Patrick.

"Good night sister," he greeted her leaning on the broom. Then he walked towards her and put his hand on her forehead, "Perfect."

She couldn't help but smile.

"There is no fever anymore and I feel much better. Have you cooked?"

"Yes, and I also cleaned everything. I don't know if it makes much sense to clean while I cough and sneeze the virus, but at least everything looks clean."

"I would say that looks shiny. And the cake looks great."

He put down the broom and quickly cut off a slice of cake while making her tea.

"Do you really feel better?"

"Yes. I'm a little tired, but I feel good. You should stop cleaning, tomorrow you won't be able to move."

"Are you telling me that I'm old?"

"Something like that," she laughed at his indignant face.

"You have to see how ungrateful you are. And I even summarized what you had to read," he gave her one of her books, "Look, chapters 9, 10 and 11, ready for you to study. I was going to take notes on them but you know my handwriting is the handwriting of a doctor."

She turned the pages without believing it.

"Did you really do all this while I slept?"

He shrugged.

"You slept a lot."

"Thank you," she smiled at him, "Thank you very much."

"You're welcome," he grabbed the broom and continued sweeping while whistling.

***

**Day 10**

"Poker."

She looked at the deck of cards that had fallen in front of her book. Then she looked at Patrick.

"What...?"

"I found them in that closet in the living room. They are poker cards."

"Oh yes, they are from Sister Evangelina."

"What???"

"Sometimes we play."

"Do you play with her? Excuse me but there are things I don't understand. You have many things prohibited, but do you play poker??? What the he...!"

"Doctor!"

"Sorry."

"Guard nights are long, that's the explanation of these cards. What are you doing?!"

"Mmm?" He answered releasing the smoke from a cigarette he had just lit, "I found these cigarettes in Nurse Franklin's room, more specifically, in the drawer where she keeps her stockings."

"Doctor Turner!"

"I'm very sorry but if I have been doing things during these days it was not out of boredom but to forget that I wanted to smoke. And I can't take it anymore!"

"But we are sick! How can you think in cigarettes? Also I thought you had quit smoking."

"Well... one or two per day. Oh come on sister!"

"This is not possible. You told me you promised Timothy that you will stop."

"I smoke when he's not with me, obviously. Don't you want one?"

She swallowed hard. Sometimes, the temptations were too strong, especially those related to him. And even more so with him smoking.

"Okay, just a puff of yours."

"So you smoke? Every time I discover more dark things about you."

"I went to high school, of course I've ever smoked."

"And other things did you smoke?"

"I am not a drug addict!"

"I don't know that," he laughed, and handed her his cigarette.

Taking a puff awoke the desire that she had dominated years ago. She smoked the last cigarette before ringing the bell at the convent and entering her new life. She missed it very much for a time, but the vices could be controlled by praying. Now she wasn't so sure about that anymore.

"Thank you" she said handing it back to him.

"So we have poker cards and cigarettes. What else do we lack in the convent of vices?"

"In that closet there is a bottle of whiskey, it's from sister Monica Joan."

He coughed up the smoke, staring at her in shock.

"She uses it to make puddings."

Patrick opened one of the kitchen cabinets, found an almost empty bottle.

"Just puddings?"

"That bottle has been there for years, and yes, she has made several puddings. Not anymore, we don't let her get close to the stove or we all fly through the air."

"I repeat: Only puddings?"

Exasperated, she recognized defeat.

"Okay. At Christmas we drink a little. Only a little. We don't receive or give gifts, so that is our small reward for the work of the whole year."

"Your Scottish blood calls you," he said sitting at the table again, putting the bottle and two glasses, "We'll finish this bottle and then you blame me when they ask you. Well, we have the cigarettes, the whiskey, the cards. We just need a gun on the table and we are a couple of gangsters. I don't want to know if you have weapons, please."

"No, I don't have," she laughed.

"Then what do we bet?"

"Bet? This is a convent!"

"In good time you remember that!"

"It is one thing to play, and another to bet."

"That's not funny. Let's bet who does the dishes. But today's dishes, and those of every day that remain in our quarantine, including pots, breakfast and snack cups."

"Good. I agree."  
***

He stared at her as she presented her cards.

"That can't be. I want my rematch."

"I'm sorry Patrick Turner, you already asked for three rematches and you lost all of them. Accept that I'm better."

He snorted, gathering the cards. In the ashtray were four finished cigarettes, and the whiskey bottle was empty.

He stood up, pretending to be sad for losing in such a way and having to fulfill the bet. She laughed at him with an evil laugh that he loved.

"You wanted to bet, now you have to fulfill," she stood up, gathering the dishes, "But I'm going to feel pity for you and I'll dry them."

"Thanks for that," he growled, though he loved that she was around.  
They moved naturally around the kitchen as they cleaned everything.

"I…I'm going to miss this," she said suddenly.

He looked at her, she was drying a plate slowly, without looking at his face.

"Me too. It had been a long time without someone scolding and educating me."

"Oh, as if that worked," she smiled, "At least you will have funny things to tell Timothy. Please don't go to say about cigarettes and poker."

"I don't want him kicking me out, of course I won't tell him. You also don't tell my attempts to cook."

"Why not? You have improved. But the nurses will laugh a lot."

"And they will lose what little respect they have for me. Sister...Thanks for everything. Things could have been worse in every way and now we are fine. I hope I have not bothered you much, I'll try to behave better in these days that we have left."

She smiled, put down the mug she was drying, but didn't look at him.

"Yes, everything has been nice. So...I'm going to miss you. You're funny. Well, I must go to pray, it's almost time," she quickly grabbed a plate and the mug she had just dried, but they both slipped and fell crashing into the counter. She let out a scream, as the pieces scattered everywhere.

"Did you hurt yourself?" He approached quickly, noticing that she was looking at one of her hands in pain.

"Yes, it's nothing, just a cut," she turned on the tap and began to wash her hand.

"Do you...do you want me to take a look?"

She looked at her hand and then held it out to him.

"Yes."

There was only a small cut, nothing serious or terrible. Blood spurted lazily and mixed with the drops of water.  
He examined the wound, nothing that a plaster not remedy.  
Suddenly, without knowing why, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.

She pulled away quickly, giving him no time to react, to draw closer to her and tell her how much he was going to miss her and how much he loved her.

He looked at her, she was leaning against the wall, her eyes scared.

"I'm sorry," he said not knowing what was happening, just trying to prevent her from walking away, hating himself for what he did, "I'm sorry, that was unforgivable."

She ran past him.

"Sister! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, please forgive me!"

In response, he heard a door slam across the convent.

With patience, he gathered the broken pieces of the dishes and of his heart.


	4. Chapter 4

**Day 11**

The men entered, spraying everything with a white gas that made him cough and burn his eyes. Other men took him to his room to do swabs and studies. They told him that he was doing very well, and that when the quarantine was over, he would go home and continue his work.

Then they closed everything hermetically.

He had not seen her, some doctors took her to her cell to do the same studies. He tried to get up, but was stunned by the medicines, so he lay in bed waiting to feel better. There was absolutely no sound, there was not a person or car outside, just a few pigeons walking calmly down the street. He fell asleep.

When he managed to get up, quite dizzy, he went out into the hall.

"Sister?" He knocked on the cell door. Nothing was heard. He opened very slowly but she was not there.

He heard music. It didn't come from the kitchen, but from somewhere else.

He walked down the hall, knocking gently on each door, with no response, until he found the room where a slow jazz song was playing. He knocked, and then opened the door.

***

She woke up crying. The medicines had been too strong and her dreams were full of terrible images.

She stood up, dizzy.  
In her mind, she kept repeating over and over again what had happened the night before. There were only a few days left for her sisters and nurses to return, and for Patrick to leave. The spell would break soon, and she was eager for that to happen quickly and at the same time, to never happen.

She looked at her hand, a woman doctor had asked her what happened there and she said it was only a cut with a glass. She lied, it had been so much more.

The strange woman covered from head to toe quickly removed the plaster and cleaned the wound with a very itchy disinfectant. Then she wiped it off with a small tweezer while looking at the wound carefully for something. Then she put on another plaster and told her everything was clean.

Clean was what it seemed. She felt otherwise, her vows made a long time ago told her that she had sinned, because she allowed herself to be touched by a man, and she had liked it.

It was just a little kiss, maybe he did it in a friendly way, or like a father to a daughter. She swallowed hard, hoping that was not the reason.

She stepped out into the hallway, wondering why she hoped Patrick's intentions had been what she wanted. She couldn't reciprocate, ever.

"Doctor?" She called in his room, but there was no answer. She assumed he would be asleep. She prayed that he didn't have the same nightmares as she did.

She found herself alone in the hallway, not knowing what to do, still upset by her dreams and thoughts.

She did not want to give in to the temptation she always had, but she felt so sad, despite her excellent health studies, that she decided to do so.

She walked to Trixie's room. The girl had taken several of her things, but it was still the dream paradise for many women. A mirrored dressing table with lights, boxes full of makeup of all colors, combs, brushes, bottles of perfumes in beautiful shapes, shoes of all models and an endless of dresses and suits. She closed the door and walked around the room, thinking. She should not to do it, vanity was of the worst sins, and these things were not hers, and stealing was also of the worst sins.

On a small table, there were unused CD cases, because the nurses had their speakers and their cell phones and they listened to music with that, but Trixie kept an old equipment with which she sometimes listened to the radio.

She looked at the CD cases, she knew some and others did not. A jazz one caught her eye. She never liked that kind of music, but she wanted something to reassure her. She put on the cd and immediately the sound of a trumpet filled the room with a slow melody.

"Not bad," she said moving a little.

She went to the dresser and removed the veil that covered her head. Her hair fell shining.

She chose a brush and ran it in her hair, slowly. Then she looked between the lipsticks. She tried a red one but it was too much, so she took it off with a tissue and tried a pink one.

"And how is this used?" She said taking an eyelash curler. The object gave her chills just thinking she should bring it closer to her eyes. She put it away and removed her glasses.

She laughed, she felt like a girl trying on her mother's makeup. She liked all this so much, for so long, and she could not have it. Why? Because she was not brave. A virus had to come and make her sick so she could finally try these things.

"If I get out of this alive," she said looking at the mirror and discovering that she was beautiful, "if I get out of this alive and everything ends well, I'll leave the convent. I want this in my life, I want to be happy without having to obey rules about how to dress, what to say or what to do."

She shook her hair and laughed. Then she carefully removed her habit and placed it on the chair.

The shoes almost changed her decision. If she wasn't a nun anymore, she would wear sneakers, or things that didn't have the heels that Trixie wore.

Barefoot, she opened the wardrobe. She took out one or two dresses, dancing along with the music, she left them on the bed. Looking between the hangers, she found the one she wanted. Trixie had a pink dress that was beautiful, she was afraid that the girl had given it away because it had been a long time since she had seen it. It was a short, light and sleeveless summer dress, very simple but she always liked it.

She dressed with the conviction that it looked bad in her, she didn't have the body that Trixie took care of almost every day in the gym.

But it fit her well. She turned several times, looking at herself in the mirror.

"Sister, are you here?"

"Oh no!"

There was nothing nearby that she could cover herself with, so she stood still, and he stood still, looking at her from the door.

She decided that fainting could be an excellent option to get out of the terrible situation she was in, but that did not happen.

"Sister?" He looked at her strangely.

_"He doesn't like the way I am. I'm horrible"_ she thought. She cleared her throat, trying not to cry, and walked to the chair where her habit was, "Excuse me, Patrick? I need to change my clothes."

"Of...of course, sure, sure. Sorry, I knocked on the door but you didn't answer and I thought...Sorry."

She nodded and he looked down, closing the door behind him.

She wanted to die right there, and she needed to take off all this that was not hers, she needed to do it because she felt as if she was burned by the terrible shame she was going through.

The door opened again.

"Patrick!" She screamed. Luckily she still hadn't taken off the dress.

He walked towards her.

"You don't need to change, you are beautiful. Do you want to dance?"

He held out his hand, palm open, calmly inviting her. She realized that the music was still playing, she had forgotten it.

Her own hand replied, before verbally accepting she had already approached half a step. She took his hand in hers.

"I don't know how to dance this," she said, still wanting to faint or die.

"Neither do I," she heard him laugh, "I'm bad at dancing but we also have nothing else to do, right?"

He looked at her eyes.

"N...no."

He put an arm around her waist, barely put his hand there, and she raised hers to rest on his shoulder. She laughed, sure they looked ridiculous.

"What are you laughing at?"

"We are very bad. Or so I think."

"Well, we are not in a dance contest on the telly, there is nobody here to disqualify us."

She felt him draw her a little closer. They moved awkwardly at first, she looked at her feet fearing he would step on her. They soon found a rhythm and got better.

"My father listened to this music," she heard him say, "It brings back good memories."

"I never liked it, but this is nice."

They continued to dance, though they barely moved on the same tile square.

He suddenly stopped and pulled back a little, not releasing her.

"You are perfect, do you know that?"

"Patrick..."

"Sorry for what happened last night."

She watched him take a deep breath, and felt him squeeze her injured hand.

"I'm not going to say I'm sorry, because it's not true. I've wanted to do it for a long time, not since...this disease. But I will still ask your forgiveness because I made you feel bad, and that is something I never want for you."

She released his arms, taking a step away but still looking at the ground.

"I forgive you," she took a breath and courage, and looked at him, "Although you didn't hurt me."

"But you are..."

"I already know what I am, and I know very well what I want to stop being," she took a breath, convinced that nothing that was happening was possible for her, "Well, this is uncomfortable, could you go? Please."

Before she knew it, he was taking her face, and kissing her like she always wanted.

When he released her, he seemed terrified of what he had just done. She smiled at him.

"My name is Shelagh."


	5. Chapter 5

****Day 12****

She woke up startled by thunder rumbling everywhere.

Through the window she saw that it was pouring rain and lightning illuminated the dark and sad morning.

She stretched, yawning, and suddenly remembered it.

She jumped to her feet, looking around for the clothes, about to cry.

“Shelagh?”

“Don’t touch me!”

She kept looking for Trixie's dress until she found it on a chair. She took it, it wasn't dirty or wrinkled, luckily. Still, she started crying while dressing.

“Shelagh.”

He was standing behind her. She felt him put one of his hands on one of her shoulders. She didn't want to look at him, but she wasn't mad at him either.

“Put this on, you're freezing,” he wrapped her in a huge blue cardigan. He stared at her and she swallowed hard.

“This shouldn't have happened. Not...not here, not like that.”

He nodded without saying anything, but still carried her to the bed, where he sat her down and covered her legs with the blankets. He sat next to her, looking at her trembling hands.

She wiped away her tears, feeling stupid about everything. She should never have given in and accepted his friendship, and tried for a moment to be someone else. Everything was ruined now, and she couldn't even look at him because of the shame she felt.

And yet, despite all that, she was not sorry.

“This shouldn't have happened,” she repeated.

“But it happened.”

“Yes.”

She heard him take a deep breath and release slowly.

“I’m sorry. Well, no. I’m not sorry.”

She looked at him feeling furious with his calm.

“You never regret anything but you always do what you want, and the one who pays the consequences is me.”

“Ok, I'm sorry.”

“You just said you don't regret it!”

“I’m only sincere, something that you aren’t!

She was silent, wanting to cry again. He was right.

“Okay, I'll be honest with you. I don't regret it either. But this didn't make sense, you know? Because you…you still love your wife, and I...well, it's obvious that I'm not a nun anymore. I can't wear that habit again, because of the shame I feel. And because I don't feel like I should use it, I've felt that for a long time.

“I'll be gone in two days, and you won't see me anymore. I’ll look for a job elsewhere, I don't want you to feel upset because you must work with me or see me. I’ll move as far as I can.”

“No!”

She found herself holding him by the hand, then wanted to release him but he took her by the wrist.

“Shelagh I love you. Yes, sometimes I miss my wife. She passed away, she didn’t abandon me or we divorced. I loved her very much, but she’s gone, she left a long time ago. And I always thought that I wouldn't want anyone else until you appeared in my life. I swear I tried, I didn't even want you to notice what happened to me with you, but I began to see that you too...Anyway. This shouldn't have happened, you're right.”

She swallowed hard, trying to process what she heard.

“Do you really love me?”

“Yes, I said I love you. And it's true, and I love you for a long time.”

“Then don't go, please.”

“I will not leave if you tell me that you also feel the same. Please don't lie to me.”

“Patrick, everything is very complicated...”

“I know, and I know that everything happened very quickly. I know you need time, but rest assured that when you make a decision, I’ll be waiting for you. I’ll always wait for you if that's what you want. Although, I would like to call a priest to get married right now.”

Very reluctantly, she giggled.

“I know I'm intense...” he also laughed a little.

“Yes you are. But we don't need to get married now. Yes, I need time, there is so much to fix, I have nothing of mine, and...My God, people will say so many things about us!”

“People are busy with the virus, we will be a nice news within the important.”

They were silent, lightning struck nearby, startling them.

“Shelagh...you didn't answer me.”

She looked at him, and smiled.

“I love you too. And I love you for a long time too.”

She approached and kissed him barely, when she wanted to separate, he hugged her.

“So, what do you say? Will you get out of this quarantine with me?” He whispered in her ear.

She parted, smiling.

“Yes, I’ll do it.”

**_***_ **

He was not surprised by her reaction. When he saw her fall asleep in his arms, smiling and calm, he knew that when she woke up, things would not be so idyllic.

There was a lot in the middle that separated them and if she didn't dare to go over it, it would all be summed up in a night they spent together out of pure loneliness and sadness, nothing more.

When she assured him that she loved him, and that she would leave everything, he could hardly believe it. It seemed to him that he was in one of his many crazy dreams that he had with her as the protagonist.

He kissed her one, two, a thousand times more, until she parted laughing out loud at the sound of their hungry stomachs.

“You stay there,” he ordered, arranging her in her narrow bed and covering her, “I’ll go to prepare our breakfast, so you can sleep a little more.”

She smiled and settled into the warm bed, covering with the blankets.

He walked down the dimly lit hallway, wondering if she would really leave this place. She had a lifetime within those walls: a house, a family, a profession.

He never prayed, but as he passed through the chapel, he prayed that she would be allowed to continue working here. She was an excellent nurse, and she loved her patients very much. She would be very sad if they took her away from them and Poplar would lose a professional like no other.

Then, lowering his head, he asked God for forgiveness, although he knew that God would be preparing for him one of those lightning bolts that were falling outside.

However, he couldn't help but leave the chapel smiling, and continue like this while making coffee and toast. In his head he repeated over and over everything that happened the night before: he simply kissed her because he could no longer hide what was happening in his heart, and she told him her name. They ended up in her room, slowly taking off their clothes and kissing and caressing each other. He asked her a hundred times if she was sure, and she said yes with her mouth and her body. He knew that never in life was he going to forget her skin, her aroma, her sighs and moans. He hadn't planned it but made sure it was perfect for her, even knowing that she would regret it.

Now he knew she didn't regret it, so he would spend the rest of his life making sure it was always perfect for her. He would love and adore her forever.

When he finished preparing everything and went to the cell, she slept and even snored a little. He stifled a laugh so as not to wake her and put the tray on the light table. Her hair was matted, falling all over the pillow. He pushed it away from her face and gave her a little kiss on the nose.

He feared she would wake up again hating him, but she smiled and yawned, stretching to sit.

“Oh, this smells so good!” Her stomach growled again and she laughed, making space for him on the bed. She began to cough.

“Here, peppermint pills,” he handed her one and she brought it to her mouth, and the cough immediately stopped. She stirred the coffee thoughtfully as Patrick sat next to her and drank his coffee.

“Do you think we can get sick again?” She looked at him with sad eyes.

“They say that we are immunized, but I don't know...”

“I'd hate to get sick again, or to get you sick,” she took his hand and kissed it, “Patrick, I know that in your head you have everything fixed, but what will you say to Timothy?”

“Tim loves you so much. You've spent more time with him than I have.”

“Yes, but that was because you can't take care of him and he comes here. And he’s not alone with me, he’s with all the nurses and nuns. It will be different for him, I don't want him to hate me.”

“Don't worry, he won't. Eat this toast, come on, you need to eat,” he handed her a toast, but she didn't bite it.

“Patrick, I'm serious. Look, my mother died when I was nine years old. If my father had come one day with a strange woman, I would have run away, or I would have killed him, or I don't know... So I understand how your son might react, and it worries me. I have my drawbacks, but so do you.”

“I know, Shelagh, I thought about it many times, although everything was always wonderful in my head. I’ll talk to him, I’ll tell him little by little. Don't feel bad about it, now you have to feed that grumbling stomach, and then we'll spend the day here.”

“Here?”

When he looked at her, he thought he would meet a shocked look.

He let out a laugh when what he saw was a look full of mischief and lust.

“Here, yes, in this bed, all day.”

**** Day 13 ****

They both yawned while watching television. One day before the quarantine ended, they brought them one.

Shelagh smiled as she imagined that this device would be used by Sister Monica Joan, who would be delighted by its size, colors, and high technology. If before they couldn't take her off the old television in the convent, now they should just resign themselves to the idea that the old nun forgot everything else to concentrate on watching television 24 hours a day.

“They brought this just so we can see that there are more and more sick people. There is only news or BBC documentaries about dolphins,” Patrick continued passing the channels, more and more indignant.

“Leave it, I like dolphins.”

“Really? I like you.”

“But I’m not an animal.”

“I could say where you are a wild animal, but sometimes I remember that I’m in a convent so I won't say it.”

“Patrick!”

He kissed her, but she pulled away.

“I have things to do,” she said standing up.

“Oh, I also have things to do, like get you out of those jeans that look spectacular on you.”

“Turner, stop it. Also the jeans are from Cynthia, I’ll have to borrow them or buy them because I have nothing to wear.”

“You don't need to wear anything…”

"Oh, you speak like a dirty old man. I'm going.”

Patrick followed her down the hallway and she laughed.

“Shelagh you can buy her jeans, or the Trixie’s dress that you like so much. When we go out you can buy what you want or like the most. I’m not Prince Harry, you know I only have a doctor's salary but I can buy you whatever you need.”

She stopped, sighing. It was only a day away, and she was trying to muster up the courage, although sometimes, knowing that she would go out into a very troubled world without even her own clothes to dress, scared her terribly.

“Patrick, it's not necessary. You’re very kind, but when I entered the Order I brought some money with me, which supposedly if you leave, they will return it to you. I'll buy something with that, you shouldn't give me anything.”

“Fine, as you like, but I would like to help you. Or give you gifts, if you don't want help. Please.”

She smiled, she couldn't deny that plea.

“Very well, I accept. Now, will you help me? I have to go into Sister Julienne's office and...now it's very hard to get in there.”

He took her hand and they entered.

****

**_***_ **

“Do you take care of all the accounts?” He said watching her write in thick books with impeccable calligraphy.

“Yes. Believe it or not, in a convent there are many bills to pay.”

He walked around the great office, looking at the pictures of saints, the religion books, the furniture that looked like from the Middle Ages. He opened a file cabinet, it was full of folders with names of different nuns.

“Here's my girl,” he said taking out one with the name _"Sister Bernadette"_ written on the cover.

“Patrick that's my file, leave it there. Oh no, what a shame!”

“Shame? Now I want to see it.”

He sat down and when he opened the folder, several photos fell.

“Is this you when you graduated as a nun?”

“You don't "graduate" as a nun...Oh, please, no!”

She got up from the desk as he laughed at her anger and held up a photograph of a freckled girl with a missing pair of teeth.

“God, look what a cute creature you were! Well now you're still cute but at least you have all the teeth.”

“Now I want to see photos of you, if photography had been invented in your time,” she stuck out her tongue and took a photo, squatting next to him, “Oh, here I am on my first day of school. I brought it with me when I entered the convent because my parents are there. And because I remember so well that day, I was so happy to learn to write and read once and for all!”

“You were always very smart,” he kissed her on the forehead.

“Save that, please. When I speak to Sister Julienne she will return them to me.”

“What will she think of all this?”

“I don't know, I hope well. But you better have a bunker in your house because Sister Evangelina will look for you everywhere to hang you in the square!”

****Day 14****

“Shelagh. Shelagh wake up, it's almost time.”

She stifled a sob. She never believed that the day the quarantine would end she would be so sad. She preferred to stay sick if that meant being isolated from everyone and alone with Patrick.

She turned, Patrick's eyes were sad, watching her from his bed. The beds had been put together two nights ago, which brought accidents and falls and lots of laughter. Now it would all be over.

“I don’t want to go,” she said reaching for his hand.

“Shelagh, you can stay. They can all understand you, I'm sure.”

“I didn’t mean that. I don't want to leave and this entire dream ends.”

“Well, let's try to get sick again,” he made a funny face, but she didn't smile.

“Really, I don't want everyone to find out and look at us and tell us things. They will say terrible things.”

“People always talk. Look, even if nothing happened between us, they would surely talk the same way. A man and a woman, alone in one place for several days? Sure we were the talk of the neighborhood. Let's fulfill their dreams, then.”

She reached out to kiss him, which he accepted. She wanted to peel off his pajamas, but he pulled away with a smile.

“Stop there, miss. As much as I would like, I told you that it is almost time and they will come for us.”

Resigned, she sat on the bed and reached for Cynthia's black sweater and jeans that she was definitely going to have to borrow.

In her mind she thought what she would say to the doctors who would be arriving very soon, what she would say to Cynthia, to Trixie, to all the nurses. Above all, what she would say to Sister Julienne, to Evangelina when she started screaming and cursing. If she was lucky, Sister Monica Joan would only have eyes for the new television.

Patrick had disappeared so she got dressed and made a ponytail in her hair, and went to the kitchen, where he made the last breakfast. They sat down and ate in silence.

There was a knock on the door and immediately a group of people entered, all wearing special suits, masks, and a large set of instruments.

They separated the couple to do the studies. If all went well, Patrick and Shelagh would be free in a few minutes.

As two doctors carried her to her old cell, looking at her curiously, Shelagh looked back.

“Don't forget, I'll be waiting for you,” Patrick said to her, before they took him away.

**_***_ **

“Very well Dr. Turner, there are no traces of the virus, you are completely healthy,” said one of the doctors, “For a few days you should not work and you should only stay at home. They will call you later to do tests and see how your lungs are, and if you have managed to get immunized.”

“Thank you. Can I be with my son?”

“Sure. The children don't seem to get sick or have hardly any symptoms, so there are no risks for him. But don’t treat coronavirus patients until we are sure that you are immunized.”

“Perfect. I'll pack my things and go.”

The doctors came out and he kept saving the few belongings he had. He listened to the voices of the women, and tried to know what they were saying to Shelagh.

He saw them come out and walk down the hall, greeting her.

When they were gone, Shelagh leaned against his door, looking at him.

“And…?” She asked.

“I'm fine, there’s nothing.”

He approached to kiss her, but she pulled away.

“They're going to come in to disinfect everything, so we have to go now. The doctors told me that the sisters are outside. And there are also the nurses, and some journalists too! Patrick,” she looked at him scared, “Patrick, I forgot everything I was going to tell them!”

“Just tell the truth. You can...you cannot do this if you want. I'm not going to force you into anything.”

She denied several times looking at the ground.

“No, it would be better to say everything now. They must to know that I love you.”

They walked to the front door. Shelagh still seemed full of doubts, so he gave her a little kiss that made her smile.

“Let's go?” He took her hand and kissed it.

“Let's go.”

Together, they opened the door.

**_THE END_ **


End file.
